


A Thousand Ways (To Go Home Again)

by SophiaCatherine



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/F, Flashbacks, Food, Grief/Mourning, Nightmares, Team Bonding, Trauma Recovery, Zari & the disaster crew, legends family feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-27 12:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaCatherine/pseuds/SophiaCatherine
Summary: For want of anything better to say, she grumbles, “I hope yours are less vivid than mine. There’s only so many times I can dream of a police state before I just have to stop sleeping out of sheer boredom.”Amaya gives her a strange look.Linked snapshots of Zari's life as she settles in on the Waverider, and in the process, falls for Amaya. Set in the weeks following her arrival in season 3.





	1. Past

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to both [minachandler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minachandler/pseuds/minachandler) and [unwittingcatalyst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwittingcatalyst/pseuds/unwittingcatalyst) for beta-reading this in so much detail for me.

**Keeping Score**

“And _then_ ,” Ray says, “we blew up the whole damn base! I mean, Snart did, mostly, but we helped. And free will was restored to the universe.” He looks up from the console, nods in satisfaction. “That was pretty nicely done.”

Zari, lounging in a jump seat with a bowl of chips, purses her mouth. She’s heard the story before, but Ray’s version is so heroic. An epic tale of knights in futuristic armour battling magical enemies. “For the stuff with the Time Masters, 8/10.” She waves a so-so gesture. “You did a good thing. Could have gone better for your poor teammate, though.” Ray nods solemnly. “For the team’s defeat of Savage overall, 7/10. Messy, but effective… eventually.”

“Fair,” Ray admits. “Oh!” He raises a hand into the air like a student. “Has anyone told you about the one where we saved American democracy?”

She groans. “Yeah. Mick. Five times. He’s very proud of his statue.”

“As he should be,” Ray says, with a note of—what—patriotism? Not something Zari’s very familiar with.

“It’s a great statue,” Mick says as he enters the bridge behind them. “Majestic.” He stops at the console. “I wanna rate _your_ adventures, new girl.” He points at her. “You got quite the rap sheet.”

She offers him a chip and shrugs. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Stories!” Mick demands, dropping to the floor next to her.

Ray smiles and shrugs apologetically. “We did find quite a long list of your past exploits, Z. Some of those looked like they must have been interesting.”

She crunches, and thinks for a minute. Then she rests her hands on her chin, leaning her arms on her crossed legs. “There was this time when I took out four A.R.G.U.S. agents while my brother was transporting a meta out of Seattle.”

Ray joins Mick on the floor and bounces expectantly.

Zari slides down to the floor opposite them. “She could fly, but they’d done something to her powers - they weren’t working. My brother flew her to Central City with the air totem, right under A.R.G.U.S.’s noses.” She smiles behind her hands. “We got help from someone who could make us invisible to their equipment, but we never knew for how long. Every time we passed an A.R.G.U.S. drone, it got - intense. We got her there, though.”

“Why Central City?” Ray asks.

She wonders if he really can’t guess, or if he’s humoring her. She points at him. “Oh, no way. Gideon’s given me the full list of things I shouldn’t talk about, and the futures of anyone you know is on that list.”

Ray laughs. “Fine, fine. Anyway, that’s gotta be a solid 8/10 on your scale. You think, Mick?”

Mick nods enthusiastically. “I like it. You got any more?”

She laughs and passes the bowl to him. “Well, then there was the time we smuggled food into a house that A.R.G.U.S. was monitoring, for a _month_. They were trying to starve out the three metas inside. Teenagers.” She swallows. That was not a good month.

“Huh.” Ray’s looking at her more closely. “That’s not a - nice place you’re from, is it?” he asks.

She doesn’t answer.

“Think I’m gonna go find more chips,” she says, after a moment. “Maybe a sandwich.”

Mick stands up. “You want company? I could eat a sandwich.”

She considers him. “Yeah. That’d be all right.”

In the end they eat an entire chocolate cake between the three of them, telling more stories, and leaving even more untold.

 

**Training**

Sara leans against the wall and grins. “You get all scrunchy when you get annoyed.”

Zari drops the bo staff and glares. “I do _not_ get scrunchy. What does that even mean?” She looks down at the staff on the ground. “You know, I have a totem that does seriously cool things with air. What’s even the point of this thing?”

Sara’s pose is relaxed, but she’s alert. Zari wonders if she’s ever _not_ ready to fight. Sara says, “And what if one day you don’t have it, and you have to fight anyway? That thing,” she points at the totem around Zari’s neck, “can be taken off you.” Sara moves into a fighting stance and spins her bo staff, circling her. Zari swallows reflexively. “No one can take this away from you.”

Zari narrows her eyes. “I’ve been smuggling metahumans to safety for years. I _have_ fought bad guys before.”

Sara pushes off the wall with one foot and picks up the staff, placing it back in Zari’s waiting hands. “Good, then you’ll be a quick study. Now. Watch how I stand.”

She obeys, copying Sara's stance.

A sudden fluid, effortless motion has Sara’s own staff in her hands in less than a second. She takes Zari out in three moves.

That, _of course_ , is when Amaya arrives.

Breathing hard, Zari looks up at Amaya from the ground. “Hi,” she manages to get out, eventually. Amaya smirks at her.

Sara looks between them, her gaze unreadable. “Again?” she asks Zari.

Getting up, Zari glances at Amaya and hesitates.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Amaya says, going to the opposite wall.

She’s in old jeans and an oversized shirt, and Zari still can’t take her eyes off her. But she only gets to stare briefly, because Sara takes advantage of her distraction and knocks her off her feet _again_.

“That was rude,” Zari snaps at Sara, who grins and shrugs. Amaya’s hand is over her mouth in the corner. “Care to help?” Zari shoots at her.

“Sara doesn’t have superpowers, you know,” Amaya hints, grinning.

“She’s an _assassin!”_ Zari protests, while Sara obviously suppresses laughter in the background. “Come on, black belt,” she pleads to Amaya. “Give me a hand.”

Warm arms envelop Zari’s tightly, safely, from behind, guiding Zari’s hands into a better position. Her heart starts to race, and not from the exercise.

“That’s better,” Amaya is saying behind her. “Now. Sara, would you slow down that feint you just made, so Zari can copy it?”

Sara spins in a graceful, fluid move that she can barely see. “That was slowed down?” Zari objects, sulking. But then Amaya’s hands are on hers again, and she focuses on the flowing movements Amaya is leading her through.

And then suddenly Amaya’s holding her - _wrong_. Her hands tighten, just a little, around Zari’s wrists, and the ground lurches beneath her. She snaps out of Amaya’s grasp and backs away.

“Hey - are you okay?”

Amaya’s expression sends a lightning strike of irritation crashing through her. Zari looks away, reaching down for her bag. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m gonna take a rain check. Thanks, Sara.”

“You’re welcome,” she hears from behind her. She’s already out.

 

**Nightmare**

She jolts awake suddenly to the fading sounds of sirens and screaming. She can still see the red poster behind her eyes _(REPORT METAS - LAW IS ORDER)._ She shivers, and turns to look at the clock on the table, glaring out 3:27 in neon green.

There’s no night or day in the time stream, but there’s a ship’s clock to give them a forced diurnal cycle, and the crew's sleep and duty schedules are mostly synchronised. With the exception of Mick Rory, who gets up when he wants, and Sara, who Zari suspects never sleeps. This time of night, though, she doesn’t think anyone will be in the galley.

So that’s where she goes, sliding into sweatpants and slippers. She deposits herself at the small table at the back of the room, decaf coffee and a plate of cookies in front of her.

She’s just started to sink deep into the silence when Amaya appears at the door.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Zari asks blearily.

“Not really.” Amaya asks Gideon for a cup of chamomile tea, then joins Zari at the table. “I’ve been having these - nightmares,” she says. “Nathaniel and Professor Stein helped, and they are getting better, but some nights I still get them.”

“Kuasa?” Zari guesses bluntly.

Amaya doesn’t reply. She avoids Zari’s gaze, frowning down at her tea.

For want of anything better to say, she grumbles, “I hope yours are less vivid than mine. There’s only so many times I can dream of a police state before I just have to stop sleeping out of sheer boredom.” 

Amaya gives her a strange look, and Zari risks a glance back at her. All glowing skin and soft edges. She stamps down on the urge to reach out and touch her.

She doesn't notice, though - she's looking down at the cookies on the table, smiling. “Do you actually _like_ that sweet stuff Gideon fabricates?”

“It’s all better than anything I’ve had before,” Zari murmurs.

There's a moment of almost-comfortable silence before she catches Amaya looking at her thoughtfully again. She scrapes back her chair and scurries to the kitchen area, turning the coffee pot back on.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Amaya asks, in that sweet, patient tone of hers. Zari should appreciate it, but the softness grates against the bleak images not yet faded from her head.

“No,” she mutters, spooning coffee into the futuristic metal jug. It’s jarringly familiar - austere metal, sharp angles, harsh lines.

“Sara said Gideon was helping you with the search again,” Amaya says.

Zari scowls, because she just _has_ to push, doesn’t she? “Yeah.” She’s still staring down at the jug. “I know it’s unlikely, but I have to keep looking for them.”

Amaya stands up and begins to move towards her. “You know - talking really might help,” she says softly.

Zari looks up, arms folded. She takes in, for a moment, the puzzle of Amaya. Gentle, but unimaginably strong. Unyielding, but forgiving. Beautiful, happy, kind.

She’s everything Zari isn’t.

Zari bangs the coffee jug on the counter, hard, and the sudden clang of metal on metal has Amaya flinching back. “What good do you think _talking_ will do? Do you want to hear how I grew up in a place that had anti-meta curfews? Where the military were out on the streets every night? About how my family were outlaws twice over - how we kept the totem and our prayer mat in a hidden space behind the wall? Or maybe you want me to _talk_ about how I would lie awake at night praying that nothing would happen to them - but under my breath, in case the neighbors heard me and turned us in.” She doesn't care how bitter she sounds, barrelling on. “Or how, instead of letting me find what might be left of my family,” she points at Amaya—and now it’s not just her eyes blazing, but her totem burning against her neck too, “ _you_ all have me sitting around here playing hero, like I’m supposed to be responsible for the universe. Want me to _talk_ about that, Amaya?” And when did she start breathing this hard?

Where Amaya had been inching towards her, she stops up short, hands slightly raised. “Zari,” she says, quiet, calm. “It’s okay.”

She’s looking at Zari like she’s a frightened wild animal, and it shakes something loose inside.

Zari practically runs back to her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from quote: “There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the ground; there are a thousand ways to go home again.” - Rumi
> 
> I love comments and always reply!
> 
> On tumblr [here](https://sophiainspace.tumblr.com/).


	2. Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staring at the knife spinning deftly in Sara's hands, she asks, “You ever feel helpless?” She pauses. “I mean - really powerless.”
> 
> Sara huffs a humorless laugh. “So many times. You want a list?” Zari shrugs, listening. Sara turns her head to look along the wall at her and says, “I haven’t told you much about Lian Yu yet, have I?”

******Training. Again.**

“No,” Sara says patiently. “You need to watch out for me, Zari. I can have you down before you’re halfway to reaching your totem, if you don’t see me coming.”

And then the sneaky little assassin knocks her off her feet yet again. Zari yells, “Oh come _on!”_ and pulls herself up into a sitting position on the floor. “I’m never gonna get this,” she snaps. “Maybe I’ll just go work on practicing… floating. On my own.”

Sara leans against the wall, rapping her fingers against it, and looks at her thoughtfully. “If you like,” she says gently, which just makes Zari sulk harder.

She glances up to see Amaya pausing at the door to the training room. Amaya briefly catches Zari’s eye, then she walks on.

Zari winces.

“You okay?” Sara asks, concern in her voice.

“Fine,” Zari mumbles. She shifts herself along to the wall and slumps back against it. And Sara’s got that worried look again, the look that all these losers get when she lets them in, even a little. “I’m fine,” she says again, as a reflex, when Sara approaches her. She finds herself not saying anything to stop Sara from sitting down on the floor beside her, though.

Sara doesn’t ask—just takes out a knife and starts playing with it, snapping it in the air.

The silence overwhelms Zari eventually. Staring at the knife spinning deftly in Sara's hands, she asks, “You ever feel helpless?” She pauses. “I mean - really powerless.”

Sara huffs a humorless laugh. “So many times. You want a list?” Zari shrugs, listening. Sara turns her head to look along the wall at her and says, “I haven’t told you much about Lian Yu yet, have I?”

Zari shakes her head, though she’s heard second-hand rumours, fragments of stories, even occasional self-deprecating references from Sara herself.

Sara stops spinning her knife, gazes straight ahead for a moment. “The most helpless I ever felt was when the Queen’s Gambit went down." Zari's confusion must show on her face, because Sara adds, "The yacht I was on with Oliver Queen. The thing that started it all.” She laughs under her breath. “It’s almost funny. So much else happened after, that should have been— _was_ worse. But that one came out of nowhere, you know?” She draws the knife lightly along the floor. “My world fell apart, and I never saw it coming.”

Zari nods, following the path of the knife with her eyes. There’s a lot she could say. “And then you ended up in the League of Assassins, and you never felt helpless again?” she says instead.

Sara laughs, out loud this time. “Hardly. But never—” She looks down at her knife. “No, I never felt quite like that again.” She turns her head to look at Zari again, an eyebrow raised.

Zari’s head drifts back against the wall, and she stares up at the monotone Waverider-gray ceiling. “The night A.R.G.U.S...” She pauses. Sara doesn’t rush her. “...arrested me,” she finishes eventually.

A silent nod suggests that Sara's waiting for her to say something else. Zari just breathes into the safe silence for a while. Eventually she grimaces, shrugs. “Well. Not all of us ended up assassins.” She gestures around the training room. “Some of us can’t even stay off the floor for more than two minutes. I trip over my own feet daily, Sara. I’m not sure I’m built to do any of this stuff.”

Sara tilts her head as she looks at her with a strange smile. “So maybe we’re going about this the wrong way.” She points at Zari’s totem, abandoned in the corner of the room. “Put it back on,” she says, her tone authoritative, self-confident. Like Zari could never be.

Zari stands and goes over to collect it, eyebrows raised. “I thought you said we needed to work on my skills without this,” she says.

Sara pulls herself up from the wall. “Let’s get you mastering that thing first. Maybe you need to connect with your own power.”

Zari snorts. “You think I just need to believe in myself, Sara? How very Disney princess movie of you.”

“Hey,” Sara says, pointing accusingly. “Don’t mock the Disney. Some great life lessons there.”

“Don’t tell me you were a _Little Mermaid_ girl.” Zari raises her hands, rising from the floor and hovering a few inches above it. “‘When’s it my turn,’ all of that?”

Sara throws a staff at Zari, and she catches it without thinking. “Nah. I was more into _Beauty and the Beast_ ,” Sara says with a wry grin. “I was such a romantic as a kid. _Brave_ ’s totally my favourite now, though.”

“Of course it is.” Zari slowly turns the bo staff with her free hand, keeping the other firmly on her totem.

Sara crouches in front of her. “Now come at me,” she orders.

There’s a hint of glee in Zari’s replying smile. She drops to the ground, lifts her hand, and calls on the power of the wild wind.  
  


**Qadr**

She knows it’s Amaya buzzing at the door. She briefly considers not answering. Then the buzzer sounds again, twice in a row.

“All right,” she snaps. “Gideon, unlock the door and let her in.”

She doesn’t get up from where she’s sprawled across the bed.

“If I’m intruding...” Amaya starts. She’s wearing a green cotton dress with a full skirt. Her hair is wrapped up in a red linen scarf, twisted on top of her head. She’s _beautiful_. Zari’s breath catches.

“No, you’re good,” she says. "You look lovely.”

“Thanks.” She does a little twirl for her. “It’s what I used to wear to go dancing in the '40s, and I figured, why not?” She looks at Zari's training clothes, and frowns. “You’re not coming?”

The Waverider is in New York in 1985, and Sara has suggested a night out.

“Not in the mood,” Zari says. She motions to Amaya to join her on the bed. “I’ve been meaning to come and talk to you. I’m sorry about the other night. I don’t know where that came from.” She looks up at her with an edge of caution.

Amaya smiles, and sits beside her. “Don’t worry about it,” she says, in her familiarly comforting tone. “Though, I’ve been a bit concerned.”

Zari rolls her eyes.

“Oh, don’t do that,” Amaya laughs, and Zari can’t help but smile. “I just want to know you’re okay.”

Shrugging, she drops her gaze to the blankets wrapped around her. “I don’t know,” she admits, and glances up. “Some days I don’t know why I’m still here,” tumbles out of her, all of a sudden.

“And yet, you are,” Amaya muses, leaning back on her hands.

Zari grins at her. “Right? It’s almost like I just can’t get rid of you losers.”

A smile, and then Amaya looks thoughtful. “You are, though. Still here, I mean. You didn’t have to stay...” The question hangs in the air, unasked.

" _Qadr_ ,” Zari says.

Amaya shakes her head.

“Means fate - sort of,” she clarifies. She lets her head fall back against the headboard. “It was one of the things my brother was always going on about. God has written all things down. He knows our fates, and he has approved them.” She raises her eyebrows.

“You don’t agree?”

Zari shakes her head. “No, I do, but—I don’t think it’s quite that simple. I never used to think too much about it, honestly. That was more Behrad’s thing.” She avoids Amaya’s eyes. “Lot of good it did him,” she adds, low and quiet.

Amaya narrows her eyes at Zari. “You’re giving it some thought now.”

“What makes you say that?” she replies, fidgeting with the blankets.

Amaya lifts her hand and lets it hover over Zari’s totem. At Zari's nod, Amaya brushes her index finger against it. “Because,” she says, “you’re still wearing this.”

It’s not quite a touch, but it makes Zari shiver a little. “Well. You said it,” Zari admits. “Our fates are entwined. Maybe there’s…” She pauses. “I don’t know. A point to all this. A purpose.”

Part of her recoils from the idea. Suffering is senseless. At home, metas and people with mystical powers are being tortured in the name of science, of the state, and people are _dying_. She wonders again why she isn’t back there, getting people out.

Then she looks at Amaya—graceful, brave Amaya—and she can breathe again.

She slides her own hands over her amulet, until they’re entwined with Amaya’s. She feels Amaya take a sharp breath in. Not looking at her, Zari says, “I’m trying to process everything, okay? It’s - a lot.” She sighs. “You really want to know why I’m still here?” Amaya nods. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” She swallows as the weight of the words hits her.

She's expecting the look of sympathy and understanding that follows, but a shock of rage still runs through her, because Amaya  _can’t_ understand.

After a few moments, Amaya breaks the silence. “I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it. But if you ever do want to tell me how you’re doing…? With your family, and - everything?”

Zari pulls her hands away from Amaya’s. “I’ll be okay,” she says, keeping her voice even. She falls quiet again.

Amaya nods. Then she smiles, and the mood shifts a bit. “Hey, did you really hack Gideon?”

“Only a little!” Zari protests.

“I cannot be a _little_ hacked any more than someone can be a _little_ pregnant,” Gideon intones, deadpan.

Zari grins.

“She tried to rewrite my fabrication subroutines,” Gideon says. “We have discussed how this will not be happening again.”

She looks up at the ceiling. “Well. Your food could be better.”

“Thank you for your opinion, Miss Tomaz.”

“I never heard a computer snap at someone before I met you, Gideon,” Zari laughs. Then she curls in on herself, because laughter still feels _wrong._  Amaya grabs her hand again, and Zari freezes for a second. Then she holds on. “I miss him,” she starts to say, and why is her voice betraying her?

“Behrad,” Amaya clarifies quietly.

Zari nods, and she twists her other hand around her totem. “I miss them all,” she says quietly. She feels Amaya’s hold on her hand tighten, but Amaya doesn’t say anything. Zari’s grateful, as she fights to get herself under control again.

Eventually she looks up at Amaya. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

Amaya smiles, and Zari can’t help smiling back, a bit. “It’s okay,” Amaya says. “I mean it. I’m here for you.”

Zari thinks she might believe her. She doesn’t let go of Amaya’s hand.

“I don’t have to go out,” Amaya says. “We could hang out. I can join the others later. Or not.” She looks at her with a strange half-smile that Zari can’t figure out.

“You don’t have to do that for me.”

Amaya’s smile broadens and she squeezes Zari’s hand. “Maybe I want to.”

They settle in in front of movies for the rest of the night, sitting close enough together on Zari’s bed that all evening she's nervous as a schoolgirl on her first date. She finds she doesn’t mind.

(“I can’t believe you haven’t seen _The Fast and the Furious.”_

“I’m from 1942.”

“You can’t use that excuse forever.”)


	3. Future

**Video Games**

“Your ass is mine, Tomaz,” Jax crows.

They’ve set up a Nintendo Switch to work with the viewer in the lab. They’re currently playing ARMS.

“One, that is the most ridiculous phrase ever, millennial guy,” she says.

Jax glances over at her and then looks back at the screen. “Wait. Are millennials, like, _old_ when you’re from?”

“Obviously.” She grins as he pulls a face. “And, two, this may be the most ridiculous _game_ ever.” His character drags hers across the ring and then punches them repeatedly. “I think maybe Sara should be training me for this."

He laughs and keeps punching, bashing his controller button with the same intensity he uses to take out bad guys as Firestorm. “You ever played Grand Theft Auto?”

“Nah. Not much got to us on the black market,” she says. She’s distracted by the punch Jax’s ludicrously huge-armed guy throws at hers.

“Oww!” he says as her player punches back. He stares harder at the screen, his face screwed up in concentration. “You like car chases?”

“Sure,” she shrugs.

“Well, GTA’s like those dialled up to eleven. It’s like a heist thing. You boost cars, drag people into trucks, all that kinda shit. You'd love it.”

Out of nowhere, for one vivid second, it’s the morning that they dragged her away from her family, and she’s being cornered at the back of a prisoner transport truck by a small female A.R.G.U.S. agent who likes to rough up her meta prisoners.

She takes a steadying breath.

“You okay?” he asks, glancing away from the game and at her for a moment.

She keeps her eyes on the screen. “Bit of a rough day,” she admits. “Some are harder than others. At least, if you listen to the cliches.”

“They’re not wrong,” Jax muses.

She’s quiet for a minute. No sarcastic game commentary. No chatter.

If Jax notices, he tactfully doesn’t say anything.

“Oh! _Yes_ ,” she yells, as she wins a round. She tosses the controllers on the ground. “Okay, I’m bored. Lunch?”

He raises his eyebrows at her. “Do you ever think about anything else?”

“I found Gideon’s recipe list,” she says absently. “I’m thinking of trying the meatloaf… or the mac and cheese… or a Thai green curry…”

“Slow down, girl. One dish per meal!” He stands up and offers her a hand.

She grins, lets him help her up. “Okay, but if you had the meatloaf and I got the Thai curry we could split them. Ooh, and desserts - have you tried any of the cheesecakes?”

Jax laughs. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey,” she says as they leave the lab, trying to sound casual. “What’s Amaya’s favourite food?”  
  


**Angry**

She hits the bag.

It hurts.

She’s not used to this. She’s not like Amaya - not some warrior with years of experience under her black belt.

Without her totem, this is all she is.

_Again._

She hits it again.

_Harder._

She hits it again, harder. Because she wants to. Not because she’s listening to any shitty inner voice that thinks it can tell Zari Tomaz what to do.

_You think they want you here?_

She hits again, resolutely ignoring the pain that shoots through her hand.

_You think you’re more than just a problem to them?_

Oh, fuck off, she thinks at the tone.

An A.R.G.U.S.-agent-in-an-interrogation-room tone.

 _You think you’re more than a complication to_ Amaya _?_

She snarls and hits harder. Three in a row, bang-bang-bang, and she can feel it shuddering deep into the bones of her shaking hands, shocking the tendons of her too-fragile arms.

Brute force and power over the weak. That’s all any of this  _hero_ crap is.

_But sure, pretend you’re a paragon of teamwork and justice. See how long it takes them to figure out you’re not._

Screws up her eyes. Slams against the bag.

_See how long before they get bored of your history hacktivism and your condescending snark and just drop you back off in twenty-forty-fascist where you belong._

(Behrad and Zari Tomaz, you are under arrest for --)

 _See how long till they figure out they’ve got no use for a fuck-up who cared more about saving her own skin than saving her_ brother _._

(Khakhar --)

 _That totem isn’t even_ yours.

She screams, and aims a novice, grim kick at the bag.

She isn’t sure how she ends up on the floor. She hopes she threw herself down in a fit of glorious rage. But she’s Zari Tomaz, and she probably tripped.

And then she starts to laugh.

By the time Amaya finds her, Zari’s sprawled out, cackling at the ceiling, with a stitch in her side.

Amaya looks down, inclining her head sideways. “Um. I heard a scream.”

“Yeah,” Zari eventually manages to gasp out. “That was me. Sorry.”

“Are you… okay?”

She pauses to consider the answer to that. Looks up to find Amaya offering her hand. Zari takes it, allowing herself to be pulled up. “Don’t know,” she admits.

Amaya’s face crumples. “Do you—”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” Zari says with a wry smile that’s only a little bit forced.

Amaya smiles back and gestures at Zari’s sweatpants and loose t-shirt. Zari suddenly wishes she’d thought of wearing something less dowdy, more like Amaya’s tight-fitting black leotard and yoga pants. “Training voluntarily, Zari?”

“Yeah. Bad idea,” Zari says, an edge of a whine in her voice, and moves her right hand. “I think the bag tried to dislocate my fingers.”

Amaya has grabbed her before Zari can flinch back, removing her glove and turning her hand under an expert gaze. “Just bruised, I think. Your gloves aren’t fitting well. We need to get you some that you didn’t just grab from a shelf in the storage room.” She throws a glove at Zari, who grins and ducks. “Also. What the hell were you _doing_ to do that?”

Zari pulls away and shrugs. “Taking some frustrations out on the bag.”

“Well, you have terrible technique.”

“Yes!” Zari says, throwing her hands up (and wincing). “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell all you warrior types.” She gives the bag a final kick, for effect. 

Amaya steps back and looks at her. Zari squirms a bit under her gaze. She always looks at her so - intimately.

Eventually, Amaya says, “Okay. Never mind training. I’ve got chocolate cake in the galley. Homemade, really big one. You wanna come share?”

Zari looks at her from under raised eyebrows. “Does ‘share’ mean cake, or feelings? Because I can only promise cake.”

Amaya makes a 'tiny' gesture with a thumb and forefinger. "Maybe just one or two feelings? I did put a lot of work into it.” Zari snorts as she is shoved playfully towards the door. 

“ _Fine._ ”

**  
Dinner**

Hovering three feet off the ground, Zari’s putting up a determined fight as Amaya lunges at her, driven forward by the ashe of a powerful eagle.

As Zari flings her arm across the table, Mick yells “Do you mind? People are eating!”

“This _is_ the kitchen,” Ray agrees, as he sneaks fries from Mick’s plate. (Mick grunts at him half-heartedly.)

“Five bucks on Amaya to win,” Nate says, prodding his fabricated hamburger with some disdain. “Man, I miss Five Guys.”

“Sorry!” Zari says, then yells “Asshole!” as a tiger forms behind Amaya and she leaps onto Zari.

“ _Language!_ ” Amaya laughs, but she’s been startled off balance. Zari rises into the air, flies in towards her, and shoves her to the ground. Which is where they stay for a second, just looking at each other.

After a moment, they look up at six Legends, all rushing to pretend they weren’t staring.

“Should we leave you two alone?” Sara smirks, and Zari mock-glares at her.

Zari’s laughing as she collapses into a chair next to Amaya's. Jax shoves a plate of macaroni at her. “Your half.” He points at his meatloaf. “Then there’s half a meatloaf.”

She beams. “You’re an excellent man, Jax.” She takes a cheesy forkful. “Oh wow. That’s amazing,” she moans. “Although. Hmm. Hey Gideon, can we talk about the reci—”

“No. Learn how to make it yourself,” Gideon interrupts.

“Fair,” Zari shrugs.

Beside her, Amaya’s watching her with a coy smile. Zari catches her eye and smiles back.

“And then there was a _tiny_ explosion in the lab,” an abashed Ray is saying, to Nate’s impressed nods.

“Wow. Nothing in my day was anywhere near that interesting,” Nate says, and sighs. “I never get explosions in the library.”

“Didn’t your time seismograph identify an anachronism before Gideon found it?” Ray counters.

Nate shrugs, bumping his water as he does—Zari reaches over and steadies it. “Yeah, that’s a whole other kind of exciting,” Nate says. “The kind that is less.”

And then Zari looks up, and the team’s voices fade into the background. Amaya’s still gazing at her, fond and beguiling. Maybe it’s the friendly atmosphere, or maybe it’s still the thrill of the fight, but Zari finds herself reaching out and lacing her fingers with Amaya’s.

It’s not home yet. Zari doesn’t know how long she can stay. She’s still not quite sure what she’s doing here. But she thinks she could start to find herself again, here, with this ridiculous squad of messed-up people, who, with all their strange delusions of heroism, somehow stumble into doing good.

Amaya’s delighted smile is a perfect answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading - hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from quote: “There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the ground; there are a thousand ways to go home again.” - Rumi
> 
> I love comments and always reply!
> 
> On tumblr [here](https://sophiainspace.tumblr.com/).


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